


Badass Vulcans

by where00wentb4, wherenonehavegoneb4 (where00wentb4)



Category: Star Trek Reboot, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: AU-af, D/s, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, mild crack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:56:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22066630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/where00wentb4/pseuds/where00wentb4, https://archiveofourown.org/users/where00wentb4/pseuds/wherenonehavegoneb4
Summary: Started as a "Fill" for a prompt on the Star Trek IX Kink Meme LIVEJOURNAL Community: Badass Vulcans are Badass
Relationships: James Kirk/Leonard McCoy/Hikaru Sulu/Pavel Chekov, James Kirk/Leonard McCoy/Nyota Uhura/Hikaru Sulu/Pavel Chekov, Spock/James Kirk/Leonard McCoy/Nyota Uhura/Hikaru Sulu/Pavel Chekov
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

[[Star Trek Kink Meme st-xi-kink-meme.livejournal.com](st-xi-kink-meme.livejournal.com/14468.html?thread=14776708#t14776708) Prompt: Badass Vulcans are Badass ]

* * *

 ** _PROMT: So, Surak never happened and the Vulcans nearly drove themselves into extinction before they realized that killing off the entire race wasn't so conducive to their own personal interests. However, with so few of them left after all the fighting they realize that they have to get tougher in order to survive. It doesn't take long before they make a reputation for themselves in the universe as ruthless and highly aggressive fighters capable of killing foes nearly twice their size with only their bare hands. Also, the fact that Vulcans are rumored (it's entirely false, of course) to eat other sentient species doesn't do any favors to their image either. In short, no one wants to cross a Vulcan. Even the Klingons are hesitant to pick a fight with one. The fact that there are so few of them is only a slight comfort.  
  
However, Vulcans do seem to have one weakness: an illogical fondness for humans. Of course, because of their reputation, most Vulcans find their efforts to court prospective human mates to prove fruitless. This leaves them feeling rather upset because they really want nothing more than to pamper these illogically pleasing humans to bits and treat them like royalty.  
  
So, while on shore leave, Jim ends up running into Spock, a reputable assassin that's known for both his cold efficiency and the consequences of his terrifyingly short temper. Spock is immediately smitten, of course, and proceeds to try and court Jim, who, while incredibly freaked out at first, thinks it's actually rather endearing in the end even if it's a rather bloody affair (Vulcans think the way to someone's heart is showing off how many ways you can beat someone up). Bones just thinks he's crazy because good god, man, he's going to eat your brains for breakfast if he gets the chance_**!

* * *

Jim sprinted down the hall as soon as he cleared the doors of the lift. He grabbed the edge of the inner wall to swing himself around the corner. McCoy was going to feel like he wasn't really of any value to him if he left him alone for too long.  
  
WHAM!!!  
  
Somebody neglected to put up a warning sign about the pile of black lumpy bricks that weren't there the previous night. Not that he would have stopped to read a warning sign if someone had put one there.  
  
There wouldn't have actually been a reason for anyone to put up such a sign, as Kirk was beginning to realize now that he was somewhere between sitting and lying on the floor.  
  
The black, lumpy wall of bricks had shoes, boots, to be precise, really expensive looking boots to be even more precise.  
  
"Niiiice boots!" Kirk was impressed enough to say to the black, lumpy wall of bricks while still looking admiringly at the really expensive boots it was wearing.  
  
"Nice enough to lick--as an apology for your assault on my person?" The black, lumpy wall of bricks revealed that it had a voice, and that voice sounded like the smoothest, sharpest blade in the universe.  
  
Jim looked up, and the dark eyes looking back down at him seemed to glitter with ice-cold contempt...for just a fraction of a second. The remainder of that same second, and the ones following immediately after it, showed those same eyes instantly filled with intense interest that was searingly hot. He actually reclined back a little more, propping himself up with his hands on the floor and his arms locked ridged behind him. He moved his legs apart further, drawing the heal of one foot closer to his ass and sliding the other out almost straight. Almost. The casual admiration in his eyes turned to blatant hedonistic pleasure. "If it was an apology you would honestly accept, I would."  
  
This time the eyes glittered with even hotter interest--and warm amusement. The straight dark arch of one eyebrow lifted elegantly. "I would," the voice, still smooth, was lighter and tinged with a note of playfulness.  
  
Jim took the answer as both challenge and permission. In a graceful, feline-type movement, he slid his legs behind him and his arms forward. There, in the hotel lobby, Captain James T. Kirk closed the few decimeters of space between himself and the black, lumpy wall of _**hot**_ looking alien bricks. Said distance closed, he sat on his heels and lowered himself until his mouth was at an outer ankle.  
  
Looking up to make sure he had proper supervision, Jim moved his face to the ankle until his lips felt the soft touch of leather. Without inhibition, he parted his lips and snaked his tongue out to press it flat against the smooth black surface and lick a complicated pattern upward with a lewd sort of reverence. He finished with his cheekbone leaning on the rim and his hot breath going down inside the top from his nostrils. Restraining all but a hint of cockiness from his expression, he looked up with genuine hopefulness that now proved capable of melting alien brick walls.  
  
"A---pology---accepted..." The black lumpy wall of alien bricks let out in a shuddering breath.  
  
"JIM!!! WHERE AND THE DEVIL ARE YOU???"  
  
Jim's attention was ripped away from his captive audience with a cringe. "I'm _so_ **fucked-sideways** to the end of the galaxy!" He leaped gracefully to his feet and fled, "Coming, pet!"


	2. Chapter 2

The black-clad Vulcan resumed walking, turning the corner and heading for the hotel's main lift.

The doors opened a few seconds after he stopped in front of them, revealing two Klingons who moved forward and then froze at the sight of the Vulcan.  
  
With a condescending lift of an eyebrow, the Vulcan moved to the side with a backward step.

The Klingons vacated the lift as if they were expecting it to shower them with pastel paint and muscle relaxant gas.

The Vulcan's eyes followed them as if merely allowing them a head start in running for their lives (as if that would do any good).  
  
The Klingons rounded the corner and the Vulcan turned his attention to the open lift.

  
  
"....James Kirk---"  
  
"JIM! Idiot! The Enterprise captain wants to be called JIM!"  
  
"JIM. Kirk. Might want to know a Vulcan is so near his people, especially his Favored."  
  


The Vulcan's trained, sensitive ears picked up the retreating Klingons voices.  
  
Jim? Was that not the name the exquisite blue-eyed human had answered before leaving him? Captain of the Enterprise, James T. Kirk?

It could not have been!  
  
The doors closed in front of the even-more deeply stunned Vulcan.  
  
He simply stepped back, urgency rising in his eyes as he aimed himself in the direction that the blue-eyed human had gone.  
  
He declared himself officially on his own personal hunt!  
  


_Later--_   
  


Jim brought McCoy to the most popular dining spot on the planet. It was like a huge club/restaurant/bar/game room/sports/exhibition-  
stage.

The dining area had sound-proofed transparent walls to view the activities around in a more peaceful ambiance.  
  
Jim had gotten them drinks and found McCoy watching transfixed at a section of elevated cage-bridge where two males about the same build as the two of them were about to finish a very energetic public fuck.

He slipped McCoy's drink into his hand while pressing up against him from behind.

McCoy took hold of the drink, not changing his focus in the slightest.  
  


Jim's eyes followed the direction of his beloved's gaze and smirked warmly. "Would you like me to do that to you, Leon, take you up there and fuck you, completely naked, for everyone here to see?" His voice was a hungry growl and a seductive demon-hiss.  
  


The Vulcan had finally caught up to his prey, not recognized immediately for what he was because of the hood that concealed the back-half of his head.

He cleared the entryway of the dining room and found a vacant area where he could observe his target inconspicuously.  
  


"You should stake your claim right here, Kirk! No one here will mind!" One Klingon in a group on the opposite side of the expansive room yelled encouragingly.

There were shouts of agreement from almost everyone else in the room around them, hospitality and security employees included.  
  


Kirk glanced around with confident amusement, and then back at McCoy's secretively pleased smile. "Then again, why wait?" His voice was a dangerous purr in McCoy's ears that only melted the pathways to higher reason closed, and left him with the raw, uncaring need.

McCoy put his empty hand up against the transparent wall as he felt Kirk pulling his dress slacks down to the middle of his thighs.  
  


One of the Hospitality employees came up right next to them, holding a tray with an assortment of lubricants and disposable cleaning cloths.

Kirk set his drink on the tray and picked his favorites, touching his debit bracelet to the reader, tapping a tip in for the attending employee, and allowing a thumb-print scan.


	3. Chapter 3

"I want you to finish half your drink while I'm getting you ready," Jim told McCoy as he broke the seal of a packet and squeezed the contents onto the tips of his fingers.  
  
McCoy did as he was told, bringing the glass to his head and taking the straw into his mouth.

He whimpered loudly as he swallowed, feeling the fingers of one of Jim's hands slide into his crack and firmly spread his asscheeks apart so that the other hand could spread a thick layer of warmed, soft, wet, slipperiness over the highly sensitive flesh.

He'd finished half of his drink after Jim's hands let him go to open another packet--a blunt syringe that Jim slipped into McCoy's twitching hole.  
  
McCoy closed his eyes and lowered his head, letting out a long, broken whimper at the jolt of aching that bit into his consciousness, injecting insistent want which spread to every nerve ending.

He panted harshly before remembering to start trying to relax.

The glass in his hand was being pulled away, and he let it go, hearing quick, soft footsteps move quickly across the transparent floor away from him.

Damn, but the service was good here!

He put his other hand on the wall for better support.

His fully hardened cock was screaming up into his brain for touch with a beacon pulse, and he vaguely connected approving chuckles and loud murmuring in his mind to the sight of his arousal.  
  
McCoy whimpered loudly again when he felt the jolt of the syringe pulled out quickly, sending a violent shockwave of craving.

His cock jumped, and sent another jolt of "TOUCH ME!"/"FUCK ME!" around to his hole, up his spine, and through his eroding brain.

He felt the weight and foreign heat that Jim had just filled his ass with.

He flexed the muscles down there and felt the semi-fluid ooze pleasantly against his walls and out his hole slightly.  
  


"Remember not to push it out while I"m spanking you," Jim told McCoy warmly as he kneaded and rubbed his asscheeks firmly.  
  


McCoy let out a long whine, his cock jumping even harder this time.

He groaned, already imagining what was going to be done to his ass after Jim stopped the deep, sensual rubbing there. "Yes, Jim," he forced himself to answer as clearly as he could.  
  


"You're being so good for me, baby," Jim praised McCoy earnestly.  
  


McCoy could feel the rubbing change to lighter, rapid circular patterns, signaling that it was time to start begging. "Please, Jim, please let me feel you spanking my ass red!"

The circling motions slowed just a little, and the pressure increased just slightly.

His groin flexed and his cock hardened with a wave of throbbing. The next words were going to make it happen.  
  


"Louder," Jim ordered, "I want everyone here to be able to hear what you want me to do to you." His hand was now moving in heavy, wide circles over the entire surface of his asscheeks.  
  
"PLEASE!" McCoy let the security of trust take the place of the comfort of dignity, and cried out desperately! "LET ME FEEL YOUR HAND SPANKING MY ASS, JIM! PLEASE! LET ME FEEL YOU SPANKING ME UNTIL YOU'RE READY TO FUCK ME RAW! PLEASE! JIM! PLEASE!"  
  
The Vulcan watched, utterly transfixed, forcing his expression to appear interested, but unmoved, yet feeling himself harden uncontrollably to his ecstatic horror.


	4. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry! I purposely made this "Chapter 5" so that I could go back and write the "missing" scene, but I wanted to move the story forward because this is supposed to be about a badass Vulcan trying to court Jim!

The Vulcan watched Kirk guide his companion to and down onto one of the wide reclining chairs further down the wall.

There were still calls of approval and laughter bubbling around them, although subsiding as other ongoing events outside the transparent walls were drawing attention.  
  
A happily smiling attendant was waiting at the chair with an impressively ornate looking metal pail and a small towel.

Jim nodded his gratitude and plunged his hands into the pail, soaking them in the clear liquid thoroughly before pulling them out and drying them.

He thanked the attendant, who nodded appreciatively and then withdrew through one of the mirror-doors.  
  
The Vulcan watched as Kirk walked to the other side of the recliner after sanitizing his hands and then made himself comfortable up against the sleepy-looking playmate.

It had better _only_ be a playmate, the Vulcan thought challengingly.

He didn't like the idea of what sort of complication a current mate might become to possessing Kirk.  
  
It did not look promising.

Kirk was playing with the other male's hair and feeding him by hand from a tray of food that another attendant had placed on the small table next to his side of the recliner.  
  


Although Kirk seemed extremely fond of the dark-haired male, the Vulcan didn't think he'd taken him as a mate.

The Klingon at the hotel earlier that day had used the term "his Favored", so perhaps he merely needed to prove that he could be of more interest to Kirk.

He could also convince the other to relinquish Kirk by offering a place as a concibine.

  
Kirk kissed the dark-haired one on the forehead and then left the recliner and walked over to the bar.

He was ordering two more drinks when an Orion left his group of friends to go over to Kirk's "favored" and start propositioning him.

The Vulcan left his secluded section of the room and headed for the Orion.

The green blob had to be just as interested in provoking a fight with Kirk as he was in having a taste of Kirk's favored, else why attempt such a thing with Kirk so near?  
  


Sure enough, the Orion swung at Kirk when Kirk came back, drink in each hand, announcing a little more diplomatically than expected, that the dark-haired one was with him.

Kirk not only ducked under the swinging green arm, but balanced on one foot, spun, and rose, delivering a gracefully brutal kick to the side of the Orion's head.

He ended standing upright, facing his downed attacker, not having spilled so much as a drop of either of the drinks he retained his hold of.  
  


"Jim!" The dark-haired one cried out, moving over to the other side of the recliner towards Kirk.  
  


"Stay where you are, Bones!" Kirk's command had the faintest note of pleading to it.

His eyes had gone to the group of other Orion males that were getting up from their seats.  
  


"With or without the drinks, Kirk, what'll it be?" The largest of the group of Orion's jeered menacingly.  
  


"With or without hearts, Orion?" The Vulcan had slipped behind Kirk, his voice, clear and almost pleasantly musical in an eerie way.

He'd raised one hand to push the hood from the top of his head, letting it fall back completely.

There were gasps and loud murmurs of "Vulcan" spreading through the room.  
  


Kirk recognized that voice and didn't bother taking his eyes off the Orions, even though they were now cowering and moving backward cautiously. "I thought you said you accepted my apology."  
  


"You left so abruptly! I wasn't able to tell you that I not only accepted your apology but that I was deeply impressed by it." The Vulcan's voice had a lilt of feigned hurt to it.


	5. Chapter 6

Jim felt the beginning warmth of feeling approved of, but then the shred of common sense which he worked so hard to convince people he didn't have, tapped him warningly on the ass with a cane.

Maybe it was a compliment with razor fine strings attached.

He rapidly made up a mental list of possible reasons for what the Vulcan just said and picked out the one that seemed most likely.

It wasn't very much of a compliment.  
  
This guy probably meant he was expecting Jim to suck him off or bend over for him---whether he wanted to or not.

The warmth and excitement of the night started to drain out of him, and his shoulders sagged slightly.

He turned to face the Vulcan and meet whatever it had in mind with every last gram of bravery he had. "What can I do for you, Mister--?"  
  


There was a fiery glint in the dark eyes that had Kirk expecting to be made an offer he couldn't refuse.

The expression in those eyes quickly changed from anticipation to confusion, to assessing, to realization, to regret, to resignation, and to hope.

The bright blaze had softened to a warming ember glow. "You may call me Spock," the Vulcan said benevolently, sliding his eyes closed briefly as he nodded his head in a deep, unexpectedly polite bow.  
  


"Spock?" Kirk seemed to be trying to figure out why the name seemed familiar, remembered something of significance, then seemed deeply concerned. "Are you here to kill me?"  
  


Spock seemed somehow intrigued by Jim's theory. "I could find myself offended by such a question." The playful smirk gave away that he was not.  
  


"Well--just killing someone as soon as possible isn't always the most satisfying way to do it," Kirk somehow managed to speak in a perfectly casual manner, as though he were conversing with a friendly associate.

With some bizarre afterthought, he added, "I seem to suck at being killed anyway, is the main thing, though." He looked towards the floor as if evaluating his last statement and seemed to conclude that it was perfectly sound.

"Um, yeah," he finished in resignation with a lick of his lips. He gazed back at the now confirmed most notorious Assassin in the galaxy, looking as though he was just as perplexed by his answer as anybody would rightly be at hearing it.  
  


"Are we setting the stage to find the answer with regard to the Unstoppable Force meeting the Immovable Object?" Spock was finding this to be one of the most interesting and entertaining conversations that he'd experienced in his life.  
  


Kirk shrugged. "If that's what we're doing, I'm placing my bet on the Unstoppable Force."  
  


Spock, impressed, raised an eyebrow. "I'm honored," he admitted cautiously.  
  


"Well it isn't as though I'd have any reason to be afraid of losing," he answered with a playful smirk of his own.  
  


Spock raised an eyebrow, seemingly startled. He reflected on the statement for an instant, then looked surprisingly pleased. "True," he agreed with mirth dancing in his eyes.  
  


Jim raised and lowered himself on his toes with a renewed excitement. "So--are you going to answer my first question?" He was quickly giving away that he didn't like not being able to get at what he wanted to know.  
  
"You can tell me what I can do for you." Spock's voice was sincere, and the smile on his lips was gentle and--shy???  
  
Jim frowned somewhat, as though not sure his ability to hear was reliable right now. "Oh."


	6. Chapter 7

Spock's entire body flared to life with a fiery wanting that he'd never known he could have.

He slid a hand under Jim's arm and placed a hand at the small of his back to pull the human up against him.

His words hissed in Jim's ear like water hitting a burning hot surface. "I could take you here...right now."  
  
Kirk's expression went suddenly from playfully flirtatious to deeply concerned. "I'd worry about making you vulnerable." His eyes darted to the side, where the downed Orian should have been.  
  


Spock made a mental calculation of where the Orian should be.

He did a lightning-fast one-eighty.  
  
In another lightning-fast movement, Spock grabbed the Orian by the front of his shirt and belt, lifted him off the floor and tossed him back down a respectable distance away.  
  


Even the Klingons looked impressed.  
  


The infuriated Assassin began walking towards the lump of Orion on the floor.  
  


Jim was so focused on how badly the Orian could have been (or might be) injured, that he didn't see McCoy flying over to Spock to grab him by an arm with a bellow of outrage, "That's **_enough_**!"  
  


Without even looking, Spock back-handed McCoy, sending him sailing backward to hit the floor in a heap.  
  


" **Leon**!" The sound of heartbreak was in Jim's voice.

The callous laughter that had risen when the Orian had been dropped had completely died, and the room became almost silent.

Jim surprised everyone, by not going immediately to McCoy, but to stand in front of the still-recovering Orian. "McCoy?" Jim called to his lover, fixing an angry glare pointedly on the Vulcan assassin.  
  


"Guess he hasn't actually lost his temper yet if that's the same 'Spock' I've been hearing stories about," McCoy grumbled with a slight slur as he began lifting himself off the floor.

He'd rolled over on his side so that he could push himself up with his hands, his black dress shirt pulling open where the top two buttons were undone.  
  


The Orian on the floor let out a loud gasp from behind an inexplicably protective Kirk. "Kirk! I did not see that your wench had a collar! I ask your forgiveness!" He seemed more afraid of his own offense than he did of the Vulcan now.  
  


Kirk stepped back, still looking Spock in the eye.

He reached an arm behind him, offering the Orian his help up. "We weren't making it clearly visible," he said while still focusing on Spock.

When he felt the Orian take his offered hand, he got a firm grip and pulled him to his feet, but still keeping the bulky humanoid behind him. "The fault is clearly mine," Jim announced grimly so that everyone there could hear.


	7. Chapter 8

Spock was ready to greet Jim with a full smile that he could count having given people in his lifetime on two hands.

The piercing blue eyes that met his though, were filled with a heartbreaking dread veiled by courage.  
  
Of course.

The reputation of his people and of himself could not make his appearance reassuring.

It broke Spock's heart, even more, to see such a beautiful being trying so hard to face what must seem like an inescapably lethal threat, with the utmost dignified courtesy.  
  
He wanted so much to rush forward, secure Jim in a solid embrace, and blanket those sadness-imprisoned lips with warm, reassuring kisses of tenderness.

Spock came to the conclusion, however, that a show of courtesy on his own part would be a much better-received approach.

He didn't know how much of a foundation he was going to need to lay down before he could deal with ridding their lives of the dark-haired one.  
  
What had Jim meant, exactly, when he said that he "sucked at getting killed"?

Not only was it the oddest statement he'd ever encountered while conversing with another being, but it made Jim all the more endearing in the way he'd unintentionally said it.  
  
Spock watched Jim's eyes now, cloud with deep confusion, brighten with curiosity, and then cloud with concern.

He wanted to rain tender kisses over those troubled eyes, and pinched brow, and clenched jaw.  
  
He tilted his head slightly, looking Jim over like he would a new species of wildlife that he had never heard of before. "I thought it might be a better manner of initiating an encounter with you than what my first impulse to do was." 

Spock fought to suppress the leer that demanded a place in his expression, but a hint of it escaped through his eyes.  
  
Jim's eyes narrowed with friendly suspicion, and the half-smile that infected his beautiful mouth gave away his developing hope. "And that would have been to-- what?"  
  
Spock un-tilted his head, blinked casually and then spoke with a voice of true innocence. "To pounce on you, and physically pleasure you into complacency before you even had a chance to comprehend what was happening, and then fuck you into a blissful state of complete incoherence." His face betrayed no hint that he was aware of stating anything more out of the ordinary than the current climatic conditions.  
  
Jim continued to look expectantly at him, as though he were still waiting for his answer.

He blinked, looked down at the floor in a moment of contemplation, raised one of the drinks in his hands to his lips, and swallowed a long sip.

Still looking towards the floor, he inhaled deeply and growled, "Damnit!" The next instant, he was glancing at Spock with a stinted grin and moving past him towards the dark-haired one.  
  


Spock let Jim get _just_ past him before he spun on his heel and halted the human by sliding a hand between Jim's legs to lightly grip an inner thigh barely bellow the groin.

He put his mouth at Jim's ear and demonstrated his own ability to growl. "I'm never opposed to changing my mind, should doing so offer the greater benefit."  
  


Jim choked down a squeak, not daring to move a muscle.  
  


Spock stepped back, withdrawing his hand as quickly and as skillfully as he'd secured Jim with it. "Just in case the information has any value to you at all," he told Jim more casually.  
  


"JIM!" McCoy finally erupted in horrified outrage. "Don't let that Vulcan get so close to you! For god sake, man! He'll eat your brain the first chance he gets!"

Instead of looking over at McCoy, Jim turned back to gaze at Spock as if he were trying to find any sign that the Vulcan might actually do such a thing.  
  


Spock had just raised an indignant eyebrow at Leonard and then faced Jim.

It was hardly an easy task.

He was torn between wanting to fiercely berate the dark-haired one and not wanting to offend Jim.

The anger that was threatening to rise in him was suddenly dowsed.

No one had ever unmistakably looked so directly at him with such a genuine smile of unconditional warmth.  
  
"My what?" Jim asked with overly exaggerated innocence.

Still watching Spock, he saw the Vulcan's eyebrows threaten to give their owner a triple-part mohawk.

After a few seconds, Jim frowned, suddenly perplexed by the lack of reply, and turned to look at his companion.  
  


The dark-haired one was smugly examining his fingernails as though he'd totally forgotten about Jim.  
  
Jim rolled his eyes and let his head fall back, exposing the expanse of his pale and perfect throat with a loud groan. "I walked right into that one!"  
  


"You helped set it up, oh captain of 'above average' intelligence," McCoy taunted pleasantly. He moved an arm behind his head, making himself into the perfect picture of debauched comfort. "I know damn well _you're_ not the one who should be worried!"  
  
"Leon, sh!" Jim admonished mockingly.

He sauntered over to the growingly delighted Assassin, closing the space between them daringly. "If Spock here is going to run away from me, I want to know it was because of something I actually _did_." With his hand hidden between both their bodies, he reached out and boldly brushed the backs of his fingers over the well concealed bulge in the front of Spock's trousers.

His touch was unexpectedly gentle, while his eyes flashed with super-nova energies that were hurtling Spock's way to engulf him.


	8. Chapter 9

Jim guided the appropriately frightened Orian around Spock, while keeping himself between the two.

Spock could no longer see any signs of anger in Jim's expression, only a growing deep concern, which didn't make sense to the Vulcan.  
  
Spock had harmed the dark-haired one who wore Jim's collar, and he expected to see the anger in Jim's eyes earlier to return.

The idea that this human, Jim Kirk, to whom he was little more than a stranger to, had been thinking to protect Spock was quite endearing, yet it felt unacceptable.

In addition to that, how could Jim want, any longer, to protect him?

Spock felt shattered but had to hold his honor before the others watching. "Do you still doubt that I am capable of defending myself."  
  


Jim waited to see that the Orian had safely joined the others, and then walked straight to Spock until he was standing toe to toe with him.

The concern was still there, but it softened, and fond amusement seemed to trickle into the blue. "Defending yourself and protecting yourself can sometimes be two entirely separate acts."

He reached with one hand, keeping his eyes on Spock's, and encircled his fingers around Spock's wrist gently. "This is a new situation for you," he spoke confidently and with a note of praise as he smiled, "so you don't know how much effort it's going to take to stay aware of what's going on around you."  
  
Spock held his arm still that Kirk was touching, experiencing something disturbingly close to dizziness.

He was somehow feeling that there was an underlying meaning to what Jim had just stated.

The fact that he could discern that there even was some sort of other meaning led him to believe the words were quite true.

He lifted his chin slightly, reminding himself of a defiant child. "You're sure of that?"  
  
Jim bowed his head in a single half-nod. "You're figuring out how to act and what to say--right now, as we speak." His eyes flicked downward for a moment as if he were trying to decide something.

His thumb began moving in slow circles over the inside of Spock's wrist, and he met his eyes again. "Maybe you've engaged in sexual interactions before, but not with the intensity that's going to be there between us."

He seemed to be looking past Spock's eyes now, into a future that he could see as clearly as everything else around them.  
  
Brow raised half-way up, Spock felt his own sense of amusement reviving. "That almost sounds like a touch of overconfidence."

The words had only just left his mouth when something in his gut fluttered--Kirk seemed to simply assume that the two of them were going to engage sexually with each other, despite everything that had just occurred, on top of their still practically being strangers.  
  
Jim let go of Spock's furiously tingling wrist and raised it to brush the lower line of Spock's jaw with the backs of his fingers. "Am I wrong?" His question sounded more like it was being asked out of courtesy than for any sort of confirmation.  
  
Spock felt an unfamiliar surge of relief at the gesture.

He fought the urge to shudder. "I suppose that is up to you," he said before squaring his shoulders bravely in readiness.

Whatever he was trying to be ready for was completely unknown to him at this point.

He simply felt the need to _feel_ ready--for whatever was to come.  
  
The engulfing nova-energies were reaching towards him again above an already brilliant smile. "I think I can work with that." The purring sound in Jim's voice triggered another strong urge in the Vulcan to shudder.


End file.
